Early drafts of Oliver Stone's biopic on George W. Bush are meandering their way throughout the internet. Slate's take here. They're going to dramatize the pretzel-choking incident. Sounds dull. But then why should we expect the life of the current president to make for good drama? If there were a way to stage the human cost of his presidency - maybe an asynchronous, seven-continent romp displaying the impact of incompetence and bravado in power, we could get the screenwriter from Babel on board - that might be moving.
But his life? Weak tragicomedy, at best. Like a Farrelly Bros. vehicle: one not-so-great joke, over and over, until finishing the movie becomes your own personal quagmire, typified by the obligation you feel to your former self and the time you lost by going into the theater in the first place.
I almost wish he'd go all Oliver Stone on it, using anecdotal evidence as the germ for fantastic reenactments of Dubya's Dastardly Deeds. The crazier, the more impossibly paranoid, the better. We don't really need dirt-digging right now. We need some escapism. We need some fresh air. We need some new ideas. We need to get clean. And waking up from the Black Sleep of Kali that was this past seven years is the first step.
The idea of a Bush movie did remind me of the SNL gag from years ago when they made a fake commercial for "Philadelphia" action figures. If you get the notion to play "W," you could always conscript your other toys to fill the roles. Some possible stand-ins:
- George W. Bush = Curious George, Buzz Lightyear, any specimen from Bratz
- Dick Cheney = The Pit of Sarlacc
- Donald Rumsfeld = Skeletor
- Barbara Bush = Stay Puft Marshmallow Man (now with fire-breathing action!)
Your suggestions?
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